No swaying today.

The village has had a busy weekend.

One of Madame Bays great grand daughters has a birthday party in the village hall. Monsieur Bay arrives early to blow up white balloons. He does this all morning. By the time Sandrine, the hairdresser daughter, and the other Bay offspring arrive he has blown up at least a hundred of them. They are attached to the doors and windows by masking tape. A large barbecue is set up by the public loos. This is not the stainless steel Weber barbecue of Anglo-Saxon dreams, but three layers of corrugated iron suspended across breeze blocks. Underneath a raw fire sends plumes of smoke and sparks spiraling into the air. 

We return from lunch to see Madame Bay dancing on the village green, surrounded by a group of adoring four year olds. Her arms pump the air while her feet maintain a slow upwards and downwards motion. Madame Bay is wearing red cowboy boots, a voluminous, above the knee , white dress ( that looks as if it may be related to the net curtains we threw out last year ) a denim jacket edged in white lace and a turquoise Jane Austen style bonnet tied under her chin with more net curtain. 'The Font' usually maintains a diplomatic silence with regard to Madame Bays dress sense but mutters a barely audible '' Goodness ".

A group of pilgrims arrive in a mini van. They seem oblivious to the dancing four year olds or the cinder spitting barbecue . They look expectantly at the swaying Jesus. There is not the faintest breath of wind so they depart disappointed. No swaying today.

This morning we're woken at 4:30. The combine harvesters are out in force. They have to rev their engines hard to get over the speed bump outside our gate. Sophie howls. A mountain storm is forecast for tonight and tomorrow so the harvesting of the wheat has been brought forward. '' Two weeks earlier than usual '' says a young farmer in that offhand way we now discuss climate change.

Into the large market town with the PONs.  We buy strawberries and wholewheat bread at the market. The croissants have all gone. The PONs are rewarded with slivers of brioche. They approve.

The store that sells rugby rugby tickets is  very masculine place. The window displays of the minimalist '' tee shirt on a hanger " variety. Next door a new shop has appeared -Princesse Tam-Tam.  This sells micro-bikinis. It too is minimalist but in a different way. A  beauty and the beast retail pairing.

Back at home Bob has the sense to sleep in the shade of the orchard. Sophie has no sense whatsoever and would ( if allowed to ) sleep in the direct sun all day. She is encouraged into the shade.

Cats : https://arstechnica.com/science/2017/06/cats-are-an-extreme-outlier-among-domestic-animals/